There and Back Again
by we-should-buckle-some-swash
Summary: Set shortly after the 4A midseason finale, Killian and Emma face a new challenge when a mysterious stranger from Killian's past arrives in Storybrooke armed with an intriguing proposition. CaptainSwan, as always.
1. An Unexpected Visitor

Two weeks. Fourteen days. Three hundred and thirty six hours.

Two weeks since the Snow Queen had been foiled. Fourteen days since Gold had been forced over the town line by Belle. Three hundred and thirty six hours, _and counting_, since Emma had watched as Gold held Hook's heart in his hand. _Since she'd almost lost him._

Since that day, Emma and Killian had been nearly inseparable. Days spent together. At Granny's, Emma's parents' loft or walking along the beach. Mostly they talked. First of the events that had led up to Gold possessing Killian's heart, but then of everything else. Their equally checkered pasts, their hopeful future, happenings around the town, their favourite series on Netflix. Their days together felt surprisingly domestic, but Emma found she didn't mind it as much as she thought she would. _In fact, she rather liked it._

Their nights however, were still infuriatingly spent alone. They both wanted each other, that much was obvious, but despite the abnormal calm that had settled over Storybrooke, they just couldn't seem to catch a break. While there were no villains to contend with, the inhabitants of the town seemed to be going stir crazy since crossing the town line was still impossible. Anytime Emma and Killian got remotely close to any kind of _satisfaction_, an argument, a brawl, or some other emergency that required the Sheriff's immediate attention always seemed to pull her away. Hell, Henry's appendix had even burst during one particularly steamy make out session. While Regina's magic had quickly set Henry right, the constant interruptions were maddening to say the least. Two weeks, _hell more like two years_, of flirting and thinly veiled desire certainly did nothing to help the situation.

Perhaps that's why when Emma found herself pressed against the wall outside of Killian's room at Granny's, she could do little else than cling to the lapels of his jacket, pulling his lean, muscular body more tightly against hers. He kissed her passionately, persistently. As if he were a drowning man, and she his oxygen. When his tongue trailed a torturously slow path across her bottom lip Emma moaned, almost embarrassingly loudly, before deepening the kiss. Their heated breaths filling the dimly lit hallway. Killian's arm was wrapped tightly around her waist, the cool metal of his hook at her hip. His hand roamed her body unabashedly. Touching her cheek, trailing his fingertips down her side, bringing his hand back up her body to sweep through her hair.

Reluctantly breaking their kiss for air, his lips moved to her neck. He placed, wet, open mouthed kisses along her pulse, his scruff tickling her delicate flesh. The sensation eliciting what could only be described as a giggle to fall from Emma's lips. At the sound, Killian smiled against her skin. _Gods, he loved to hear her laugh_. He swore he would spend every waking moment, for the rest of his life, chasing that sound. He continued his exploration of her skin, raining soft, wet kisses along her neck, her jaw, her collar, anything he could make contact with. She sighed and arched against him, releasing his jacket and running her hands through his hair.

He parted her legs with his knee, his jean clad leg rocking gently against her core. She bucked her hips against him, desperate for more contact. Killian's hand slid down her body to her leg, his fingertips gently trailing across her smooth skin. He hesitated when he came to the hem of her skirt, though his fingers positively itched to go further. Sensing his trepidation, Emma pushed her leg against his hand, the movement inching her skirt up, exposing more skin. Needing no more encouragement, Killian's hand continued to explore her thigh, pushing the skirt higher, inch by tantalizing inch.

"Such a wanton woman," He whispered into her ear, blowing lightly before he pulled her earlobe into his mouth, nibbling lightly. In response, Emma let out a low, breathless moan, her hand tightening its hold on his hair, pulling lightly. _Sod it_, Killian thought. He'd spend the rest of his days chasing _that sound._

Emma's hands dropped to his shirt, which she pulled unceremoniously from his pants. Needing to feel his skin, as he felt hers. She slid her hands under his shirt, feeling his toned back, pulling him closer to her. She raked her nails down his back and smiled when he groaned, with a volume rivaling her own.

"Gods, Swan," He said, his voice raspy, his words hot against her skin as he rocked his hips against hers. "Can you feel what you do to me, love?" His words sent another moan through Emma. She most definitely could feel him, hot and heavy against her thigh.

"Killian," Emma said, her voice breathy as she extracted herself from his embrace. She rested her palms on his chest, gently pushing him just enough so she could meet his eyes. She looked completely wrecked, her lips swollen, lipstick smeared, her hair mussed. From his own rapid heartbeat, pounding loudly in his ears, Killian surmised he must be in a similar state.

"Forgive me, love," He said, his accent falling from his lips more thickly than he was accustomed. He smoothed her skirt, now resting scandalously high, back over her silky thighs, his hand lingering only _slightly_ longer than was necessary. _He may be a gentleman, but he was still a man after all._ He cleared his throat and attempted to maintain some semblance of composure. "Since the return of my heart, my self control seems to be lacking when it comes to you." He swallowed thickly, and moved to increase the space between them, but Emma grabbed his necklace, holding him in place.

"No, I," A slight blush on her cheeks, Emma dropped her eyes. Her hands preoccupied with the charms on his necklace. She bit her lip and found his eyes again. "Just, are you gonna invite me in, or what?"

His fingers twitched, and he fought the urge to throw her over his shoulder and do exactly as she requested. Summoning all the strength he possessed, he took a half step away from her, his eyes searching hers carefully.

"Are you certain, love? I don't want to rush you into—"

"Rush me?" Emma said. While her tone was laced with frustration, there was also a delightful twinkle in her eye. "Killian, open the damn door before I break it down." Killian's eyes darkened considerably at her words. His gaze so full of lust that for a moment, Emma thought he might take her, right there, in the hallway. She moistened her lips and suppressed a shiver at the thought. Instead he smiled broadly, and reached into his pocket, no doubt in search of his key.

"Of course, Swan. As you wish," Killian's said, as he fell into a mock bow, a chuckle tumbling from his lips before he could think to stop it. He brandished his key and extracted himself from her embrace. Shooting her a saucy wink as he turned to the door. Before he had a chance to lament the loss of Emma's body against his, she wrapped her arms around his torso, her whole body tightly pressed against his back. Her hot mouth doing the most delicious things to his neck. Killian bit back a groan and tried to focus on his task. The feel of her was distracting as hell, particularly as her hands began tracing senseless patterns across his stomach. He couldn't help but feel more than a little relieved that Emma seemed to want him as desperately as he craved her.

Against all odds, he managed to open the door. Breathing heavily, he spun in Emma's arms, capturing her lips once again in a bruising kiss as he slammed the door behind them. Bathed in darkness, he almost missed passion burning in his Swan's eyes. Soundlessly, she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and he lifted her off the floor, carrying her across the room to the bed. Without breaking their kiss, he deposited her on the mattress, his body covering her own. Hastily, he unzipped her jacket, his hand exploring the newly exposed skin. Emma arched her back into his touch. Her own hands dropping to his belt.

"Bloody hell," Killian gasped as she palmed him roughly him from over top his pants. "Slow down, love," He whispered, swatting her away. They'd waited _so damn long_, he absolutely refused to be rushed with her now. He kissed her languidly, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. His hand sliding under her shirt, relishing the feel of her smooth skin under his rough palm.

"Well this is embarrassing," A soft, sultry voice said from the corner of the room. Emma almost jumped out of her skin as a lamp flickered to life to reveal a woman, sitting quietly on the only chair in the small room. Her arm resting causally on the end table beside her. A small satchel resting beside her feet.

Emma and Killian leapt to their feet, almost simultaneously, albeit somewhat clumsily. Their bodies a tangle of limbs, their vision clouded by passion. Killian reached for a sword, which was of course long absent from his hip. He cursed himself inwardly as he angled his body slightly so he stood between Emma and the intruder, as if he feared she might suddenly lunge at them, though she made no move to do so. There was something familiar about the intruder, but having more than 300 years of memories made placing the particulars difficult. His whole body was taunt with stress as his eyes adjusted to the change in light. Suddenly, it dawned on him that he knew exactly who the intruder was. _All too well_, he thought with a grimace. He needed to get Emma as far as possible from her, as quickly as he could.

Nervously considering who this woman was, _and more importantly why she rattled Killian so,_ Emma surveyed her unabashedly. Intricate and delicate braids framed her face, keeping her long blonde hair, which tumbled almost to her waist in soft waves, out of her piecing blue eyes. Her skin was pale and unmarred, her lips an almost shocking shade of red. Besides the number of rings she wore on her fingers, she had little else in the way of ornamentation. _Not that she needed it_, Emma thought with a surprising pang of jealously. The soft light cascaded over the dark, tight leather clothing she wore, which left little doubt to how trim her small body was. Her ample chest almost spilled out from her vest. Emma shifted uncomfortably, suddenly filled with an irrational desire to bash the woman's head in with the lamp.

"Lady Jorinde," Killian said, his voice low, and laced with a hint of danger, something Emma hadn't heard from him in a very long time. "I do believe when last we met, I promised you a swift death should I ever have the misfortune to look upon you again."

"It would seem you have the misfortune," She said, seemingly unperturbed by Hook's threat. She nonchalantly crossed her legs, the leather of her pants swishing slightly as she moved. She surveyed the pair of them with bored look. "But I doubt very much you'll wish to harm me until you've learnt what I've crossed realms to tell you. Bad form and all that."

"_I doubt very much_ that we have anything to discuss," Killian retorted with a growl, his arm resting protectively on Emma's waist.

"Come now, _Captain_," Jorinde replied, a sultry smile painting her face. "Or should I even call you that, being as you're without a ship? Word has it, you traded the Jolly for one measly magical bean. That doesn't sound like the ruthless pirate I knew."

"Well you never did know me well, lass," He shot Emma a quick glance out of the corner of his eye. As he suspected, a telltale glimmer of guilt crossed her face at the mention of his ship. _His former ship_. He wanted to reassure her that he felt not an ounce of regret at the decision, but alas, now was not the time. Instead he tightened his hold on Emma's waist. "Now, if you wish to leave here with your life, I suggest you take your leave."

"I'm not playing, Jones," The woman snapped, a flash of annoyance crossing her face, before she could compose herself. She fiddled absentmindedly with one of her many rings, twirling it in place around her finger. "Lose the wench, we have business to discuss."

"Yeah right," Emma said, moving from behind Killian to stand by his side. "Anything you have to say to him, you can say to me." She could feel her magic thrumming through her veins. She balled her fists and took a halting breath, a little surprised at the feeling. It had been a while since her magic had felt out of control. While subtle, her outburst was not lost Killian. _The damn man never missed a thing about her._ He placed a comforting hand on the small of her back and eyed her, concern darting across his face.

"It's about _them_," The woman said, her voice quiet, simply ignoring Emma. "And what we took."

Killian's head swivelled to look at Jorinde, his jaw tightly clenched, the vein near his temple throbbing. Through her words had been decidedly cryptic to Emma's ears, she could see that they obviously meant something to Killian. Though she knew it was petty, she would be lying if she said that the fact this _Jorinde_ seemed to have a shared past with Killian didn't irk her. That, coupled with the fact that she continued to act as if Emma were invisible did nothing to cool the boiling blood pumping in her veins.

"Perhaps it's for the best, Swan—" Killian started gently, turning to face Emma once again, knowing his words would almost certainly displease her. He had no qualms with Emma hearing anything, _everything_, about his past, but the thought of getting Emma away from Jorinde, _to safety_, was too tempting to pass up. He would explain everything, _and deal with her anger, _later_._

"Are you kidding me?" Emma interrupted, bewildered. A trace of hurt in her voice, that he would even consider siding with this _other woman_ over her. "Killian, I—"

"Killian?" The other woman interrupted, her lips turned in a sneer, her eyes twinkling. "My, that is interesting isn't it?"

Killian flinched slightly, but aside from that, paid the other woman no mind. He moved between her and Emma, blocking her from Emma's sight completely. His eyes pleading, he rested his hand and his hook on Emma's hip, pulling her ever so slightly closer to him.

"Do you trust me?" He asked, his voice low. His steely eyes carefully darting between hers. The quiet desperation in his voice took Emma by surprise.

"You _know_ I do," Emma replied, his question causing her features to soften. They didn't however, smooth the trace of annoyance lacing her words. Whether her annoyance was from the fact that he'd had to ask if she trusted him, _he should know the answer by now_, or his not so subtle attempt at manipulation, she wasn't certain.

Her answer, quick to fall from her lips, brought a small smile to Killian's face and a twinkle to his eye. He ran his fingers through her hair, still slightly mussed from their encounter in the hallway. His smile growing in size, he tugged playfully on a lock before tucking it behind her ear.

"Then _please_, love," He said, his hand slipping back down to her rest on her hip. He slowly, but persistently ushered her towards the door. "Go back down to the bar, have a libation, on my tab. I'll join you before you're finished. I promise."

Emma allowed herself to be walked backwards, her eyes never leaving his. Her hands rested on his forearms, as if her physical presence could somehow make him change his mind. She felt his warmth radiating through their clothes and for the hundredth time since she'd met him, she found herself wishing she had her own place. Her eyes dropped of their own accord down to his lips, still slightly swollen from their ministrations. A slight blush crept onto her face as she imagined how differently their night could have been had they gone to Emma's imaginary, non-existent apartment. _How free of sultry, leggy, mysterious blondes, seemingly from Killian's past, they could have been._

Killian reached behind her and pulled the door open, the light from the hall flooding the room, breaking Emma's train of thought. Her eyes darted back to the leather clad woman. For her supposed nonchalance, she was all tension, her foot bouncing, her fingers strumming against her thigh. The woman caught her eye and stilled her movements. She smiled saucily and winked at Emma. A knot of something Emma would not call jealously twisted in her stomach as she looked back to Killian.

"One drink," Emma replied. Her response somewhere between a question and a command, as she took a half step into the hall.

"Aye," He whispered so faintly Emma could scarcely hear his words, as he leaned closer to her. "I know better than to keep my Swan waiting."

He closed the remaining space between them and placed a small, chaste kiss, full of promise, on the corner of her mouth. While there was nothing truly improper in his touch, Emma still couldn't help but suppress a small shiver. She gave his arms one last squeeze before she released him and moved out into the hallway.

"Is that the new Milah?" The woman asked, her voice somehow both smooth as silk and grating to Emma's ears at the same time.

"What she is, is of no concern to you," Killian growled, the softness gone from his voice, as he turned away from Emma. "Say your piece. Before I change my mind."

With that he shut the door roughly, causing it rattle slightly in the frame. Emma could vaguely hear the murmurs of conversation, but the thick door kept her from making out any of their words. Swallowing thickly, she stared at the dark wood, a flush creeping onto her skin. For a wild moment, she considered storming back into the room, demanding answers. Instead, ignoring the gnawing feeling in her stomach, and the fact that she was seeing red, she turned on her heel and stomped down the hall to the stairs that led from the inn to the diner. She had half an intention to storm right out of Granny's, into the cold and all the way home. As she considered leaving Killian and _that woman_ alone in the same building, she instead flopped unceremoniously onto a barstool. Her hand tapping the vinyl counter impatiently.

While a part of her knew she was being ridiculous, beneath her simmering anger, she felt surprisingly hurt. She and Killian were _supposed to be a team_. Rationally, she knew Killian asking her to wait downstairs plus a slammed door did not rejection make. But that knowledge didn't do anything to lessen the string. _She felt rejected._ Something she was unaccustomed to feeling. _Especially from him_. She vaguely wondered if he'd ever slammed a door in _Lady Jorinde's_ face, the gnawing feeling in her stomach back with a vengeance.

Emma shook her head to clear it. She eyed the bottles behind the bar, considering what would cost the most. _Killian did say to put it on his tab after all…_ The thought of payback, however minor, brightening her mood slightly. Emma effortlessly envisioned herself drowning her worries in shot after shot. The warm burn of alcohol, soothing all her troubles. Unbidden, a vision of Hook's mystery woman popped into her head and she sighed, realizing drinking probably wasn't the best idea. She wanted to keep her wits about her, should she need to… _do what? Kick her leather clad ass for putting the moves on her pirate? Real mature Emma,_ she thought to herself.

"Mom?" A voice called from the other end of the diner, interrupting her thoughts. Emma rotated on her stool and saw Henry sitting with Regina in a booth. Both shooting her a perplexed look. Emma smiled and walked over to them, trying to ignore the scathing look Regina shot her as she took in Emma's attire. Gritting her teeth, Emma zipped her red leather jacket up to her throat, lest more skin be exposed to Regina's scrutiny.

"Miss. Swan, I didn't expect to see you here," Regina said. Her voice, well not warm, lacked it's usual icy bite. Things were still slightly awkward between the two women, but Emma felt relieved that they finally seemed to be on the mend. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Don't wanna talk about it," Emma said, as she slipped into the both beside her son. Her voice came out more chipped than she had intended. _Anger was always easier than pain._ Emma sighed and admonished herself silently. It wasn't Regina's fault that she'd just had a door slammed in her face. _And that behind said door was an attractive woman with Emma's, what? Boyfriend? Pirate? Makeout Buddy?_

"Henry, do you have your storybook with you by any chance?" Emma asked, the idea popping into her mind unexpectedly. He nodded quickly as he reached for his bag. This momentary distraction also had the potential to reign in Regina's snark before she had a chance to get going.

"Is this about Operation Mongoose?" Henry asked, his voice low in a furtive whisper as he reverently set the book on the table.

"Uhh, no," Emma said simply, thumbing through the pages. She knew from experience that Henry's storybook contained disappointedly little about Hook, she couldn't help but wonder, _and hope_, that Jorinde's life was better documented within the leather-bound tome.

"What are you looking for?" Regina asked. Her tone, while cool, was also laced with curiosity.

Emma worried her bottom lip between her teeth. She wasn't especially keen to burden her son and Regina with her relationship concerns, _was that even what this was?_ But she knew that Henry and Regina had a much better handle on the stories in the book than she did. Despite the fact that she and Killian had a hand in rewriting some of the pages themselves.

"A woman, from Killian's past, I think," Emma said quickly, the words spilling out of her mouth before she had a chance to reconsider. A slight blush creeping onto her cheeks that she was asking them to assist her with her snooping. "I think her name is Jorinde."

"Overconfident, blonde, too much lipstick, a knack for breaking into places she shouldn't be?" Regina asked bluntly.

"Well, yeah that sounds like her," Emma said, surprised for a moment that Regina seemed to know exactly who she was talking about. She tired to not consider that there were probably a number of people in the world, _this one and the enchanted forest,_ whom that description could apply to. Regina nodded and pulled the book towards her, purposely flipping through the pages.

"Our paths crossed when, well," She glanced at Henry with a sigh. Her fingers still turning the pages quickly. "Back when I was still the Evil Queen. And I'm afraid the story doesn't paint me in a very good light."

"It's okay, mom," Henry said, quickly and without hesitation. "We all know you're not the Evil Queen anymore." Regina shot him an genuine smile, before turning the book back around to face Emma and her son to see.

"Here," She said pointing at the page she was apparently searching for. A woman, who looked decidedly like Jorinde, well as much as a drawing could anyway, walked arm and arm with man, smiles dancing across their faces. "Jorinde and Joringel were two of the most notorious thieves in the Enchanted Forest. They even had the gall to try and steal from _me_."

"Thieves?" Emma asked surprised, quickly turning the page, trying to both listen to Regina's explanation and read the pages of the storybook.

"Is that Jorinde and Joringel?" Ruby interrupted, causing Emma to jump. She wrinkled her nose as though she was deep in thought as she set down an unbidden cup of hot cocoa next to Emma. "I didn't think they came over in the last curse, or the one before that…"

"They didn't," Emma said with certainty. She'd become all too well aquatinted with the town's inhabitants since thumbing through the dusty census records in an unsuccessful attempt to track down Ingrid. She squirmed slightly in her seat, unwilling to involve someone else in her borderline insane behaviour, but she was in too deep now anyways. _God, since when had Emma Swan ever been the crazy stalker, obsessing over her partner's past?_ Leave it to Killian Jones to reduce her to _this_. "You knew them? Back in the Enchanted Forest?"

"Just by reputation," Ruby said with a shrug. "I thought they were more legend than anything else." She leaned over the table, studying the book.

"I can assure you," Regina said with a grimace. "They were very real. I caught Jorinde trying to steal from me, so I turned her into a bird, a nightingale actually, and kept her in a cage to teach her a lesson," She said with a shrug.

"I'm guessing she escaped," Emma said, again with a hint of certainty in her voice. _That was no nightingale talking to Killian, that was for sure._

"Her betrothed, Joringel," Regina said tapping the picture of the man in the storybook. "Dreamt of a flower which would break my spell. More like Rumpelstiltskin _put the dream there,_ but that's neither here nor there," Regina continued with a scoff. "He touched Jorinde with the flower, she became a woman again and they escaped. I'd almost forgotten about them…"

The end of Regina's story fell on Emma's deaf ears. She tried to compose herself as the mere mention of Rumpelstiltskin had turned her veins to ice, stilling any anger or frustration she felt towards Killian. It had been a couple weeks since she'd watched, _helplessly_, as Gold held Killian's heart in his hands, but she'd only very recently stopped having nightmares. The memory of the terrible day, _of almost losing him_, acting like a touchstone to snap her out of her insanity. She closed the book gently, and pushed it back towards Henry with a feeble smile. She felt unbelievably childish. She and Killian were a team. She didn't doubt for a moment that he would tell her every word of his conversation with Jorinde. _He never lied to her._ Killian had always been true to her and she had no reason to doubt him now. Besides, she further admonished herself, everyone had a past. _She had a son for Christ's sake and he'd never let that bother him._

"Shut it down," Henry suddenly whispered, his eyes darting furtively towards the bar. His warning breaking Emma from her reflection. She shot Henry a confused glance, before she followed his eyes and saw Killian, standing near the small bar.

"Thanks, kid," Emma said as she fought back a laugh and bumped her shoulders against his.

Her eyes drifted back to Killian and she took a moment to contemplate him, before he found her. Times like this, Emma wished she could read him as easily as he was always able to read her. His entire body was tense and his brows furrowed in frustration, as his eyes scanned the diner. Emma smiled to herself, knowing he was looking for her. The ice in her veins thawing slightly at the mere sight of him. Despite her desire to not feel jealous, she also couldn't help but feel relieved to see no trace of Jorinde. She watched him tightly clench his jaw and run his hand through his hair. With a heavy sigh, Killian strode purposely out the door, the bell chiming overhead.

"Shit," Emma hissed under her breath, realizing he obviously hadn't seen her. He probably thought she'd run. _Like she always did._ She threw some money down on the table and slid out from the booth. "Thanks for the help guys," She called over her shoulder with a wave as she marched out the door.

She was met with a cool breeze as she stepped out into the street, her hair blowing lightly in the wind. Since the defeat of the Snow Queen, Storybrooke had been steadily growing warmer, but it was still winter, and the vague chill that hung in the air for the past couple weeks refused to be fully shaken. Squinting against the fading light, Emma saw Killian's retreating back. His shoulders hunched as he barrelled down the road.

"Killian," She called, as she walked towards him. Her breath visible as the street lights began to come alive. Her voice halted him in his tracks, he turned back to her, concern in his eyes. He jogged the remaining distance between them and before she had a chance to protest, _not that she would have_, he pulled her into a tight embrace.

"Swan," He said, the relief at finding her so quickly palpable in his voice. He released her and eyed her warily, no doubt expecting her wrath. "I thought you'd left, I was heading towards your loft," He spoke quickly. He scratched behind his ear, and Emma realized with a start that he was nervous. "I can explain everything, love. I—"

"I know," Emma said. She rested her hands on his waist and smiled. "But you don't have to—"

A gaggle of dwarves raucously pooled out of Granny's interrupting Emma. A couple shot her and Killian questioning looks and Emma fought the urge to fire several warning shots with her sidearm. Was it seriously too much to ask for 15 minutes alone with her pirate?

"I don't want to hide anything from you, love," Killian said, clearly unperturbed by the interruption. He looked so serious, his brows furrowed, and Emma wanted nothing more than to soothe the concern from his face. Before she had the chance, he took her hand in his and led her down the main street. Emma followed, wondering for only a moment where he could be taking her. She knew she guessed correctly when the gentle crash of the surf and the call of the gulls assaulted her senses. She eyed Killian carefully as she breathed in the salt of the sea. He always went to the docks when something was bothering him.

Killian released her hand as they sat down on a bench facing the water. For one of the few times since Emma had met him, Killian looked his 300 years. His face tightly drawn as she looked out to the sea. He sighed heavily, considering where to begin. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small object, the darkness obscuring it from Emma's vision.

"I knew Jorinde, in another life," Killian began simply. "Before I was Hook," He said gesturing to the appendage which gave him his moniker. Emma saw the thinly veiled pain behind his eyes, knowing his thoughts turned to Milah, or perhaps to Liam._ To the man he used to be._ Saying nothing, Emma rested her hand on his arm, squeezing lightly. He closed his eyes at her touch, and continued. "We ran a couple of jobs together, with Jorinde and her partner. Our association did not end well." His eyes flashed and his jaw tightened at the memory.

"The short of it, is that Jorinde says she can return my ship to me," Killian said, his voice low. Emma couldn't help but notice the longing that flashed in his eyes, through he tried to hide it as he looked out to the sea. "For a price of course."

"What price?" Emma asked, apprehension lacing her words. She was comfortable, but by no means wealthy. It just wasn't something that mattered in Storybrooke. But if she could do something to return Killian's ship, his home…

"One last heist," Killian said, distain dripping from his voice. "One she claims I am uniquely suited for." He shook his head slightly, as if the whole situation was comical.

"You don't trust her?" Emma asked, trying to sort out what the issue was. "You don't believe she can get your ship back?"

"Not for moment," Killian said with a scoff. His eyes still surveying the ocean. "She is without a doubt the most vile woman I have ever had the displeasure of meeting. I am almost certain this is some trap or scheme of hers, but—"

"But what," Emma asked when he hesitated. She scooted slightly closer to him on the bench, her knees brushing against his.

"She had this," He said, finally showing her what he had been fiddling with. He angled his body towards her and reached for her hand. Gently, he placed a small piece of wood with faint carvings onto her palm. She wasn't sure if it was her imagination, but something seemed to thrum beneath the surface of the wood, as if it were a living creature. Emma turned it over in her hands and studied it intently.

"What is it?" She asked after a moment, not understanding its significance.

"It's a piece of her," He said simply. "Of the Jolly Roger. She was my home for almost 300 years, Swan, I am certain it's from the Jolly." He looked at Emma defiantly, as if he expected her to question this, but she said nothing. She didn't doubt it, or _him_, for a second.

"But we know it's a trap," Emma said, a small smirk on her face. "You're telling me, that the fearsome Captain Hook, can't outmanoeuvre some wrench who stole his ship?"

"Emma," He said softly, his voice thick with emotion. He moved towards her and ran his hand gently through her hair. "After I lost you, during the last curse, I, it nearly broke me." He hesitated and she offered him a small smile. His words came as no surprise, he'd told her this before. "But I promised myself, should I ever get you back, that I would never leave you again. I'll make that same promise to you now Swan, I won't leave you, not for this, not for anything."

"So, don't leave me," Emma said, blinking away the tears in her eyes. She reached for him and rested her palm against his cheek. Her thumb gently caressing the scar on his face, his stubble tickling her palm. "Let's do this. Together. Killian, let's get your ship back."

"Even knowing it's a trap, I can't promise you'll be safe," He said quietly, a battle raging behind his piecing blue eyes. He knew what Jorinde was capable of. Yet, he could almost too easily envision he and his Swan on the deck of the Jolly. Laughter on her lips, his arms tightly around her waist, her skin salty from the sea…

"Since when has that ever stopped us?" Emma replied with a smirk. Still, Killian looked hesitant, so she leaned closer to him. She placed the piece of his ship firmly back in his palm, closing his fingers over it. Her own hands wrapped tightly around his. "Killian, we can do this. Let's get your ship back."

He contemplated her words for only a moment, before a wide smile danced across his face, his eyes twinkling. Happiness seemingly radiating off of him.

"Just when I think I couldn't—" He pauses, the words, _love you anymore than I already do_, almost falling from his lips, because of course he loves her. How could he not? He just isn't sure she's ready to hear it yet. "You never cease to amaze me, Swan," He says instead, before sweeping her into his arms. His lips chased hers, but she tilted, just slightly, out of his grasp.

"For the record," Emma said, her tone serious, though there was a hint of a smile on her lips. "Not a fan of doors being slammed in my face."

"Forgive me, love," Killian said, a look of regret flashing against his face. "I assure you, it was decidedly a one time thing."

"Good," She said, simply. Satisfied with his response, she closed the remaining distance between them, kissing him, hungrily. The passion from their recent encounter boiling just beneath the surface. She smiled against his lips as a soft hum of contentment escaped him. She couldn't help but feel a shiver of anticipation as she imagined this adventure she was about to embark on with her pirate.

* * *

**So I have been having a bunch of trouble with fanfiction lately, but I think I finally got this up here! If you like what you read, please review :) This is my first try writing an OC character (because I am getting slightly tired of Once Upon a Disney), but don't worry, it will be mainly CaptainSwan because I am obsessed.**


	2. Rocky Waters

**A/N: There's literally no excuse for why it's taken me so long to update. I just wasn't in a writing mood. But I promise I will never leave this story in limbo for so long again! Reviews and messages are always motivating! As well, I'm interested to know if people would prefer me to keep doing long chapters (like I have been doing so far) or like double the chapters with half the length. Let me know! And sorry again for the terrible delay!**

* * *

"The usual, Captain?" Granny called over her retreating shoulder, her hands full of a baffling number of plates, which were in turn overflowing with breakfast for the hungry patrons of the diner.

"Aye, milady. To go, if you'd be so kind," Killian replied, a broad smiling coming easily to his lips. The idea that he'd settled into such a domestic routine, _with Emma-tough-lass-Swan no less_, never failed to fill his chest with an almost bursting sense of euphoria. The noise of the bustling restaurant washed over him as he leaned against the counter, the smile freely given to the Widow Lucas lingering. The sun shone brightly through the large windows, its warmth seeping into his bones. The cold snap that had taken hold of the town finally seemed to be breaking, and not a moment too soon. He'd nearly broken down and traded in his leather jacket for one of those infernal _parkas_ Swan was always going on about.

He eyed the coffee carat longingly, the smell of the freshly brewed liquid assaulting his senses. Well he was still getting accustomed to a startling number of changes in the realm without magic, he'd taken to coffee, _and caffeine_, with a ferocity. Particularly so following nights where sleep alluded him. Nights plagued by vivid nightmares. Fortunately, since the return of his heart he'd slept like a babe. _Save for last night. _He'd awaken sweaty and panting, images of Emma, torn and bloody darting behind his eyelids. He'd tossed and turned for the rest of the night. Unable to fall back asleep; unwilling to revisit the visions that had haunted him.

With a long, exaggerated sigh, Jorinde plopped down on the stool beside him. Her presence interrupting Killian's internal debate on whether it was worth Granny's wrath to simply help himself to the coffee. Though Jorinde had yet to so much as acknowledge him, he felt a tightness in his jaw. Her very presence seemed to chip away at his good mood. He tried to hold on to that feeling of contentment, of happiness, that had enveloped his entire being just moments ago, but it felt as if he were trying to cup water in his hand. The more tightly he clung to it, the faster it seemed to slip away.

"Enlighten me, Jones. What of this," Jorinde said, gesturing vaguely to the menu without meeting his eye. "_If anything_, passes for edible?"

"For a lass such as yourself?" Killian said, pretending to consider the menu for a moment. "I imagine you would fancy the bologna. It's quite the delicacy in this land."

"Is it now?" Jorinde replied breezily. She rotated slightly on her stool and contemplated him for a moment. Her gaze ran the length of his body slowly before she continued. "You know Jones, you don't look so good."

"I always look good, lass," He retorted with a halfhearted wink. He had of course surveyed himself in the mirror before coming downstairs and was well aware of the truth behind her words. Of the dark circles under his eyes, of the lingering weariness which clung to his limbs. But he would be damned if he so much as breathed a word of his bloody nightmares to her of all people.

"Having trouble sleeping, Captain?" Jorinde said, her voice saccharine and far too grating to stomach before he'd had a cup of coffee. "Don't tell me that little blonde you were so friendly with last night left you high and dry?"

He craned his neck, seemingly seeking out the Widow Lucas, with a deliberate nonchalance. Though in reality, he sought to hide the tight clench of his jaw from Jorinde's prying eyes. He did not like where this conversation was headed. Had he a modicum of common sense he would simply walk away while he still could. Hell, he might have already if it were not for that inciting aroma of coffee, just out of his reach.

"There's really no fight left in you then?" Jorinde continued, feigned surprise dripping from her words. "Where's the tortured soul and vengeance?"

"That's not who I am anymore," He said, still refusing to meet her eye as his fingers tapped on the counter impatiently. Granny was lucky she was essentially the only proprietor of coffee in this town or she might have very well lost his future business. _A solid business model, indeed._

"Pity. Though I suppose Milah had a way of softening you out as well. Perhaps once your new wench dies, you'll be back to your old self," She said, the trace of humour gone from her words. Against his will, Killian's felt his neck twist to finally met her eye. He fought back a shudder when he saw something deep within their depths that made his blood run cold. Try as he might to remain impassive, his face must have given his thoughts away. His stomach dropped as Jorinde's lips curved into a sneer, satisfied that she'd finally rattled him.

Grinding his teeth together in a manner that bordered on painful, Killian grabbed Jorinde's arm. He directed her, none too gently, through the door separating the restaurant from the inn, paying no mind to the prying glances thrown his way. Roughly, he pushed her against the wall with enough force to rattle the bathroom door in its frame. His fingers curled tightly around her forearm, a fury burning in his chest.

"You'll want to listen to me very careful now, lass. Because I shall only tell you once," Killian said, his voice low. His face inches from hers. "Should you be foolish enough to even _consider_ threatening myself or my family—"

"Your _family_?_" _Jorinde jeered. Killian grimaced as she threw back her head and laughed. Her peels of laughter reverberated in the small hall. Each shrill note chipped away at his patience, already hanging by no more than a thread. "Do you honestly think that's how they see you?" She asked, incredulously and slightly breathless from her fit of laughter. "Do you actually believe that anyone in this sorry excuse for a town thinks you're anything besides a worthless pirate? That you'll ever be more than that?"

"Well then, far be it for me to disappoint," Killian hissed, his jaw tightly clenched. Jorinde flinched as he roughly brought his hook to rest over her heart. The sharp point pressed against her skin just hard enough to sting without drawing blood. "Perhaps I save myself the agony of your presence and just do away with you now."

"Tsk tsk, Jones," She said as she gently ran her fingertips along his hook. She batted her eyelashes and Killian fought the urge to make good on his empty threat. "Have you forgotten? _You need me_. If I die, so does any hope of ever seeing your previous _Jolly Roger_."

"That's where you're mistaken, love." Killian said, a smirk on his face. Jorinde's grin faltered slightly at his confidence and she swallowed thickly. "The way I see it," Killian continued. "If any old pirate would suffice for whatever little scheme you've concocted, you never would have crossed realms. No, love, _you need me_. And as for the _Jolly_," He shrugged. "Her return is inconsequential to the life I have here."

"Is that so?" Jorinde said, cocking her head. She slid her hand along his arm and into his pocket. Killian flinched and moved to pull away, but his exhaustion slowed his reflexes and she was faster. She twirled the small piece of wood in her fingers, a mocking smile on her lips. "Then why are you still carrying this? Sentimental are we, Jones?"

"Everything all right here?" Emma asked, her voice cutting through the thick tension that had settled over the space. Her Sheriff's badge was on full display at her hip and the door leading back to the dinner was still swinging in the wake of her appearance. Recovering from his monetary shock at her startling entrance, Killian quickly released his hold on Jorinde and took a step back. He cursed inwardly, knowing his behaviour could do nothing but cast a pall over, _well everything_.

"Sorry to keep the Captain occupied, Swan," Jorinde began, leaning against the wall. She crossed her arms casually against her chest and curved her lips into a smile. The small piece of wood still spinning aimlessly between her fingers.

"Don't call her that," Killian interrupted, his voice gruff and laced with more than a little shame. Shame not at being found in a what could be perceived as a compromising position with Jorinde, but for falling back into his old ways. He was better than that. _He wanted to be better than that. _He took another step back, but not before snatching the piece of his ship from Jorinde's hand and returning it to his coat pocket.

"Unless I am mistaken, it's her name," Jorinde said, her eyes wide in feigned innocence. "She's Swan, you're Jones."

"And you are?" Emma asked. She tried not to fixate on the fact that this was the second time in twelve hours Killian and this perky blonde had been locked in a heated argument. _Two times that you know about_, a small voice whispered in the back of her mind. She pursed her lips and made a conscious effort to keep her hands from balling into fists. "You seem to know an awful lot about me, and we've never even been introduced."

"Bad form, Jones. Where are your manners?" Jorinde admonished Killian with a playful swat to his chest. Emma hadn't thought it was possible for Killian to wear a stormier expression. _Apparently she was mistaken. _"The name's Jorinde."

"No last name?" Emma asked with a cocked brow.

"Just Jorinde."

"Like Cher, got it," Emma replied in what she hoped passed for breezy. "Madonna? Bono? Drake?" She amended when she was met with nothing but blank, confused stares from both Killian and Jorinde. Her voice growing more incredulous with each unrecognized example.

"What in the blazes are you talking about, love?" Killian asked, his eyebrows knit in confusion. Emma bit her lip to fight back a smirk at his adorably perplexed expression.

"Never mind," Emma said shaking her head. "Sorry to interrupt, but Killian we're going to be late, unless you're not coming—"

"No, Swan, my apologizes, of course," He said as he walked towards her, shooting one last dark glare in Jorinde's general direction. He held the door from the hall open and gestured with his hook back towards the restaurant. "Shall we?"

"Let me guess, you're not joining us?" Emma asked Jorinde, as she paused in the doorway. She ignored Killian when he rested his hook on the small of her back, silently urging her back into the diner.

"Never been much for planning," Jorinde replied, with a shrug. "I'm headed back to the Enchanted Forest in a days time and I don't care terribly who else jumps in the portal before it closes."

"Until then," Killian said with a curt nod. Emma raised her hand in a silent farewell before she allowed him to guide her gently towards the counter. Where, _much to his delight, _two steaming travel cups of coffee awaited them.

"Sorry about the wait. It's on the house," Granny said with a nod to their beverages. Killian nodded in return to show his thanks, before Granny darted out from behind the counter again. He handed the paper cup marked with her name to Emma before taking a long drag from his own. The drink was far too hot, and he scowled at his own impatience as he burnt his tongue.

Wordlessly, Killian and Emma made their way out of Granny's. Emma watched him carefully; a fact that did not go unnoticed by Killian. He swore he could feel the gears of thought whirling in her head. Killian held the door for Emma again, the quaint bell ringing overhead, as they left. Their silence continued as they strode down the sidewalk towards the town hall, a vague sense of awkwardness lingering between them. _Something neither of them was familiar with, not with each other._

"So, are you gonna tell me what that was about?" Emma finally asked, taking a sip from her cup. Her tone was casual, but he didn't miss the furtive glance she shot him out of the corner of her eye.

"It was nothing," Killian replied quickly. Internally, fury and regret waged powerfully for dominance in his chest. Embarrassment a close second. Each emotion equally vivid and clawing to consume him the most fully.

"It didn't look like nothing…"

"Bloody hell. Can't you just leave it, Swan? The situation is in hand, I assure you," He snapped, far more harshly than he'd intended. Emma visibly bristled at his tone, her step faltering slightly. Like a tidal wave, regret immediately washed over him, drowning his anger.

"Emma, love, I'm—"

"No, it's fine," Emma said, a hint of hurt lacing her voice.

"Emma—"

"Come on," She said, walking briskly ahead of him. "Or they'll start without us."

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut for a moment, before he quickened his pace to catch up her; a blur of blonde curls and red leather. A cold feeling of dread settled over him and he couldn't help but feel that he'd really buggered things this time.

* * *

Emma shifted in her chair as she tried to find a more comfortable position. There was already a dull ache settling at the base of her neck. She understood that the _Stroybrooke-ians _had every right to be offered the chance to return to the Enchanted Forest; the decision to make the trip a simple vacation or more permanent between them and their loved ones. But why there had even been the need to host a town meeting was beyond her. She had been all for a mass text message and a sign up sheet at the library, but apparently she had been overruled.

It seemed every participant at the city forum had an opinion on if returning to the Enchanted Forest was the right or wrong course of action. _Loud opinions. _ Emma watched her parents, placating concerns from the raised podium in front of the crowd. Ever the patient rulers of their kingdom, in any realm. Indistinct yelling washed over her as she slouched in the vaguely uncomfortable plastic chair. Beside her, Killian's leg was bouncing, clearly as unimpressed with the proceedings as she was. She stole a glance at him and couldn't help but wonder if the tension he carried in his shoulders had to do with her. Emma sighed and bit the inside of her cheek as a ripple of irritation coursed through her; their earlier, heated words still painfully fresh in her mind.

"Explain to me again how we're getting there?" Leroy asked, his voice suddenly cutting above the others. The topic of a return home doing nothing to alter his ever present prickly demeanour. "And more importantly, how we're getting back?"

"Magic beans, mate," Killian said from his seated position, barely rotating his head in the direction of the dwarf. His voice surprisingly level, despite having explained this half a dozen times already. "The Lady Jorinde procured three. She used one to journey to this realm and using basic arithmetic, two remain. One to travel to the Enchanted Forest and for those who wish it, one to return to this realm."

"Those aren't easy to come by," Emma said quietly, more to Killian than to anyone else. She hadn't forgotten how Killian had obtained the last magic bean they'd needed. He'd traded his ship for her. To bring her home.

"Aye," He said with a pointed scratch behind his ear. "But have them she does. I've seen them myself."

Killian smiled at her bashfully and Emma felt her resolve to remain irritated slipping. It was almost frustrating, how difficult it was to stay mad at this man. Especially when he looked at her with that apologetic, puppy dog expression on his face. Though not exactly over being cross, she couldn't help but feel childish for her part in their disagreement. She moved to clasp his hand in her own, knowing whatever their issues were, they could sort out later. And more importantly, _she wanted to sort them out_. A feeling which was new to her.

"Emma," Regina stage whispered, suddenly at crouched at Emma's side. Her abrupt appearance making Emma jump. "Someone broke into my vault."

"What, just now?" Emma hissed back, as she dropped her arm back onto her own lap. Instinctively, she craned her neck and scanned the room, noting those absent from the town meeting. _Will Scarlet. Granny. Robin Hood. A handful of merry men. Mother Superior. Half the dwarves. Jorinde No Last Name. _"How do you know?"

"Protection spell, like a magical security alarm," Regina huffed. Clearly growing impatient with Emma's lack of magical knowledge, yet again. "Someone is attempting to break in, but they haven't quite managed it yet."

"Why are you telling me? Can't you just," Emma gestured vaguely with her hand. "_Poof_ yourself there?"

"I just wanted to give you the chance to arrest Jorinde," Regina said with a powerful sigh. "But if you'd prefer I took matters into my own hands—"

"Hold on there. A lot of people are missing from this meeting," Emma said quickly. The irksome notion of _justice_ and _innocent until proven guilty_ overpowering her prickle of distrust deep in her gut for Storybrooke's newest resident. "This spell of yours, it lets you see who's breaking in?"

"Well, no. But historically she's been anything but innocent," Regina huffed.

"Aye, and it's a might convenient that an attempted robbery occurs a mere day following her return," Killian interjected.

"Well, by that logic," Emma said with an exaggerated eye roll. "My dad and I are going to be pulling overtime to round up ever former villain, thief, and pirate in Storybrooke. Present company not excluded," She said with a pointed look at the Evil Queen and Captain Hook.

"_Whoever_ it is," Regina said. "They're breaking and entering. So are you going to deal with it or not?"

"Yeah, let's go," Emma said with a quick nod. She tired to catch the eyes of one of her parents, but they were both still deeply enthralled in the extensive discussions, _more like_ _indistinct yelling_, unfolding around them. "Killian, can you fill my parents in?" Emma asked, already pulling her jacket on. She did her best to ignore the confused glances being thrown her way by nearly everyone around her. _Oh the joys of being Sheriff in a small town. _

"Perhaps I should accompany you," Killian said, reaching for his own jacket. "If it is Jorinde—"

"We can manage," Emma said tersely. "For all we know it's a squirrel—"

"It's not a squirrel," Regina quickly interjected, crossing her arms impatiently.

"Either way, we'll be back before the forum is over," Emma continued, with a sigh. "This won't take more than a couple hours—"

"_A couple hours_?" Hook said, now the one interrupting. "Swan, you can't be serious. You mean to tell me you expect this farce to continue for _hours_?"

"You've really never been to one of these meetings before, have you?" Regina asked, with a chuckle.

"Swan," Killian said, ignoring Regina. He rested his hand on her arm, his eyes darting between her own. He doubted that Jorinde's words in the diner had been anything but idle threats meant to rattle him. But he couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had encompassed him when he saw that glint in her eye. Nor could he clear his mind of the visions which had left him sleepless. "I really think I ought to accompany—"

"Last time I checked, you weren't a deputy," Emma replied, her voice low, yet firm. Killian's sudden, uncharacteristic bout of smothering overprotectiveness acting like gasoline to the fire of her fading frustration. It also didn't help the feeling of unease that twisted in her stomach. Killian had always believed in her, trusted in her, in her strength_. What had changed?_

"Love—"

"_The situation is in hand_, Hook," Emma said. Her exasperated tone taking him aback.

Before he had to chance to explain, let alone form any sort of retort, she and Regina were gone in a cloud of purple smoke. Regina was evidentially tired of waiting. At the abrupt departure of two very prominent members of the town, a hush settled over the room. Killian felt the weight of the of the town folk's questioning stares on his shoulders.

"By all means carry on," Killian said with a wave of his hand. His voice dripping with the thinly veiled irritation he was no longer able to keep at bay. "The Saviour and the Queen will be back once their business is concluded."

There was a beat of silence before the room exploded into raucous noise yet again. From the low stage, David shot Killian a questioning glance, to which Killian replied with a shrug of his shoulders. Killian curled his hand into a fist and slumped back into his chair. He sighed as his eyes came to rest on Swan's discarded coffee cup. He ran his hand over his face, the sight filling him with an surprising sense of melancholy.

* * *

Emma sighed and rubbed the tight muscles at the base of her neck with her free hand. She kicked the door to the loft closed, wincing slightly when she saw a muddy boot print she'd left against the pale, green paint. She would deal with it. _Later, _she thought as dropped her keys on a low table near the door. _Like after she'd had a stiff drink. Or two. _She shucked her jacket and hung it on the hook by the door, as she toed her boots off and left them in a muddy heap on the mat.

By the time she and Regina had arrived at the vault, there was no one to be found. At Regina's instance that the alarm had most certainly not been triggered by a squirrel, the pair had combed the forrest surrounding the vault for the majority of the day. _The cold, damp, muddy forrest. _Emma had complied with Regina's request begrudgingly and only as a means to escape the monotonous town meeting. Which, _according to a text from Mary Margret_, appeared to finally be wrapping up. Emma dropped her phone next to her keys without replying to her mother and continued into the kitchen.

All in all, the day had left Emma more than a little frustrated. A dull ache had settled in her back, probably from sitting on that grey plastic chair for too long. Her favourite boots were muddy and soaking wet. A lingering chill, most likely from her wet feet, clung to her bones and simply refused to be shaken. She was famished, having had nothing more than half a cup of coffee all day. It didn't help that their search had been fruitless; turning up nothing but a scrap of fabric Emma wasn't even totally convinced belonged to the thief. Plus, she kept finding her suddenly somehow both overprotective and aloof boyfriend tangled up with a strange, alluring blonde. _Did she mention she was frustrated? _

She reached into the pocket of her jeans in search of a hair tie and grimaced when she came into contact with plastic. With a sigh she brandished the clear evidence baggie containing a scrap of black fabric. Caught on a tree branch near the vault, it was the only indication anyone had even been in the general vicinity of the break in. Shaky circumstantial evidence or not, Regina had insisted they bag it. Emma pursed her lips as she contemplated the fabric. A fragment of some sort of design or emblem danced along its edge in gold thread. Despite being fraying and torn, Emma could tell it had once belonged to a rich, luxurious garment. With a sigh she dropped it on the counter. She had meant to drop it off at the Sheriff's Station and felt a pang of regret that she had opted to come straight home instead. _This meant she would have to go out again tonight. _Although there was no reason that couldn't wait until after she'd had a bite to eat.

Emma opened the fridge and groaned loudly when she found it mostly empty. Shutting the door with another sigh she remembered too late that it was her week to do groceries. She rested her hand over her stomach as it grumbled. The idea of drinking on an empty stomach was not particularly appealing, but after the day she'd had, it wasn't necessarily out of the question. Mulling over her options, Emma rummaged through the liquor cabinet. She tried not to dwell on the fact that it had always been so much better stocked before Neal was born. Before she could settle on her poison of choice, a clear knock at the door cut through the silence of the loft.

She hesitated and for one blissful moment considered pretending no one was home. Shaking her head and remembering she was closer to thirty than fifteen, she instead walked to the door, albeit reluctantly. Her socked feet were quiet in the airy space. Without looking through the peephole, she opened the door, praying to the deities of any religion that nothing was wrong. She was not in the mood to play the Saviour, or the Sheriff, not tonight.

"Killian," Emma said, slightly surprised to see him on her doorstep. It wasn't as if she'd expected to _never_ see him again, but she'd assumed he would need a slightly longer cooling off period after their harsh words that morning. _She certainly wouldn't have minded. _

"You're vexed with me, rightfully so," He began. All leather and scruff and guyliner, he leaned against the doorframe causally. To anyone else, he would have looked the very picture of nonchalance. Only the hurried cadence of his voice betrayed his nerves.

"Hook—"

"But," He continued doggedly. "Are you _so vexed _you would turn away a man bearing gifts?" He shot her a small, uncharacteristically sheepish smile and gestured to a Granny's to-go bag dangling from his hook.

"My parents and Henry are due back any minute—"

"Which is why I came prepared," Killian said as raised the second, significantly larger bag for her inspection. "I begged off the meeting early and have sustenance for the whole Swan-Nolan-Mills household."

"I'm not sure how things work in the Enchanted Forest," Emma said, crossing her arms, not feeling quite ready to let him completely off the hook, _pun intended_. Not that he was making it easy on her; he looked so damn adorable playing the role of apologetic boyfriend. And the food _did _smell amazing. "But the traditional makeup gift in this world is usually flowers."

"Come on now, love. I know it's your week to get provisions," He said, his tone serious. "And I'll wager you haven't had the time." Emma's stomach growled audibly, causing a smug smirk to dart across Killian's face, his tongue resting behind his teeth. She narrowed her eyes, as if he _somehow_ had been the one to illicit the noise from her stomach.

"Did you get me fries?" Emma asked.

"Onion rings," He replied solemnly. He had the good sense to hide his smirk, although the corner of his lip still twitched slightly.

"Good," Emma said, plucking the smaller bag out of his grasp. "I was testing you."

Killian's eyes crinkled under the weight of his smile as he strode into the loft. Emma shut the door behind him and joined him in the kitchen as he set the food down on the counter. She peeked inside the bag in her hands and fought back a low groan at the aroma of Granny's grilled cheese. She wasn't sure why she was surprised he'd known exactly what she felt like. They had always understood each other; long before they were guessing if it was a lasagna or grilled cheese kind of night.

"Emma, I am sorry for snapping at you this morning," Killian said softly as he reached for her. He slid his hand along her arm, the fabric of her sweater soft under the pads of his fingers, as he gently urged her to face him. "Truly. Jorinde just has this way of getting under my skin—"

"It's fine," Emma said, setting the food down on the counter. "You don't have to—"

"No, it's not and I do," Killian interjected. He laced his fingers through hers and moistened his lips nervously. A thousand excuses flitted through his mind; exhaustion from a poor night's rest, past dealings with Jorinde he'd just as soon forget, the suffocating need to protect her, to do right by her. Her eyes found his, clear and bright and questioning and he shook his head, realizing his speech, carefully crafted during the town hall meeting, was all wrong. He sighed before continuing, "There's no excuse for my bad form. You deserve better, Swan."

"It's just," Emma faltered for a moment. Killian gave her hand a gentle, supportive squeeze and she closed her eyes before she continued. "I don't want you to feel like you need keep things from me," She said, her voice faint. Unconsciously, she rested her hand over his chest, the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm soothing her more than he could know. Killian swallowed thickly at the words she'd left unspoken. That the last time he'd omitted shameful details of his life, Rumpelstiltskin had ended up with his heart.

"I have no intention of keeping anything from you, love. Having lived a couple centuries just leaves a man with an awful lot of ground to cover," He said sincerely. He raised their still intwined hands and brushed his lips across her knuckles. "And I most certainly don't want to do anything to jeopardize this, _jeopardize_ _us_—"

"We're allowed to fight, you know that right?" Emma interrupted with a roll of her eyes.

"Your parents never seem to," He said, the nagging worry that always lingered in the back of his mind slipping from his mouth before he could stop it. The disquiet that their relationship paled when held next to the champions, _paragons_, of True Love. He loved her, _of course he loved her, _but as his actions in New York had demonstrated, it wasn't _True_. Or perhaps she simply didn't feel the same way. Neither thought was a comforting one.

"You are _clearly_ not living with them," Emma said as she fought back a bark of laughter. The playful smile she shot him filling him with a dizzying feeling of relief.

"Is that so?" Killian asked, his eyes twinkling with possibility, for more than one reason. He did enjoy ruffling Dave's feathers on occasion, and this little tidbit of information held great potential in that regard.

"Yes, but if questioned, I will deny it to my dying breath," Emma chided, immediately sensing his thoughts.

"Duly noted," He said with a crisp nod. He smile faded as rested his hook on Emma's waist and pulled her carefully towards him. "Are we okay, Emma?"

"Yeah," Emma replied. She twined her arms around his neck as he anchored his own arms firmly around her waist. "We're definitely okay," She added before she raised herself up onto her tiptoes until she could capture his lips in a soft kiss. The taste of his smile and rum pulled a contented sigh from her.

"I've missed this," He murmured against her lips when the cursed necessity of air finally made their parting unavoidable. His arms still held her close as his hand drew soft, senseless patterns along her back.

"It's been like twenty hours," Emma said, bumping her nose playfully against his.

"Too long," He retorted as he backed her up until she was pressed firmly between himself and the island. He kissed her again, the intensity and speed of his assault, knocking Emma slightly aback. She recovered from her surprise quickly and arched against him as he nipped at her bottom lip. His hand dropped to her side and began a slow, teasing exploration of the sliver of exposed skin at her waist.

"Killian," Emma said reluctantly, suddenly feeling far too warm in her sweater. She stilled his hand at her waist with her own. "Everyone will be back soon."

"How soon?" He growled, as he nosed at the collar of her shirt and peppered soft kisses along her collar.

"Too soon for that," She said, her voice delightfully breathy to his ears.

With a small sigh, Killian rested his forehead against hers, breathing her in while he took a moment to collect himself. Let no one ever say he was not a patient man. But then again, he would wait a lifetime for Emma Swan. _A thousand lifetimes. _He pressed one more chaste kiss to her lips before he took a step back. She shot him an apologetic smile and gave his hand a tight squeeze before she let it go.

"So," Emma began, clearing her throat, her pulse still pounding in her ears. "What's the first thing you're going to do once you have your boat back?" She stepped around Killian and turned the oven on to preheat. She was beginning to suspect that her mother's assessment of the meeting's end may have been skewed by her signature optimism and cold Granny's was no one's favourite.

"Ship," Killian corrected automatically. "And we're still off to the Enchanted Forest then?" He asked carefully as he followed her lead and began to unpack their dinner. He positively itched to ask her what had transpired at Regina's vault, but he dared not. Least he look as though he didn't trust her ability to handle the situation.

"My bags are packed," Emma said without hesitation. "But if you don't think you can handle it…" She reached across him, far more of her body brushing against his than was strictly required and stole a fry from the styrofoam container containing his dinner. She brought it to her mouth with a smirk, the deep green of her eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Oh, I can handle it, love," He said, his eyes on her lips. "That I can assure you."

"Come on, I'm curious," Emma prompted again with a sidelong glance as she bumped her shoulder against his. "What are you gonna do once you have your bo- _ship_ back?" Killian smiled at her correction and contemplated her question for a moment.

"Well, a thorough check of the _Jolly's_ condition, bow to stern, will be in order. Blackbeard and his crew of bilge rats likely left her in a state of disrepair," He said with a scowl and a scratch to the back of his neck. His eyes unfocussed slightly as he began to assemble a list in his mind. "The jib's past due for mending and I can't imagine what the rigging—"

"I didn't mean, what's the first thing you _have to do_," Emma interrupted with a scoff. "I meant, what's the first thing you _can't wait to do_?"

A lascivious grin crept onto Killian's face before he could think to stop it. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth to bite back a crass comment about _not being able to wait _to have his way with Emma on every single surface of his ship, _flat or otherwise. _Although he kept his silence, his intentions must have remained clear, as a pretty blush settled onto Emma's face. Despite the flush covering her skin, she didn't back down from his gaze. Instead she raised her brow, almost as if she was daring him to speak his mind.

"When I was a lad," Killian began instead, _good form and all that_. "Liam and I used to climb the crow's nest and watch the sunset together. On a clear night, the colours against the sea… it's indescribable, Swan, truly. After I lost him, I continued the tradition. It made me feel closer to him," He said with a shrug of his shoulders. Killian cleared his throat, his voice suddenly scratchy. "So, I suppose that's something I look forward to," He hesitated for only a moment, before he tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear, his fingertips lingering against her skin. "Something I would like to share with you."

"I'd like that," Emma said with a smile. His favourite smile to be exact. _The one she reserved just for him_. She opened her mouth as if to say something, and then seemed to change her mind. Instead she kissed his cheek roughly, before she turned and strode into the living room without explanation. Confusion washed over Killian as he watched her pull the couch cushion free and walk towards her room.

"Swan?" Killian asked, slightly perplexed. "Where are you off to, love?"

"Come on. I wanna show you something," Emma called over her shoulder, already half way up the stairs. "And bring the onion rings, I'm starving."

"Aye," He said with a shake of his head, already following her, onion rings in hand. "As you wish."


	3. Calm Before the Storm

By the time Killian climbed the stairs to Emma's room, she was already half way out the window and onto the fire escape. She maneuvered the slightly awkward couch cushion and a faded quilt she must have taken from the foot of her bed with the practiced ease of someone who'd preformed this dance a hundred times before. Realizing she intended for him to follow her, he too climbed out the window. His longer legs and the onion rings in his hand rendered his egress less graceful than hers had been, but only slightly.

"Sorry, gramps," Emma said with a smirk and a hint of a challenge in her voice as she casually learned against the railing. Her eyes twinkling as she watched his slight stumble. "Do you think you can make it the rest of the way, or should we call life alert?" She said with a nod towards the final flight of stairs. The Charming's loft was on the top floor of the building, but it seemed the fire escape extended up to the rooftop, which was apparently exactly where Emma would have them go.

"I don't know what that is. Though if I am right to assume it's a quip about my age," he said quirking his brow. "I'm sure you'll forgive me for being out of practice. It's been awhile since I've been required to take my leave from fair maidens' bed chambers through their windows."

"Yeah, yeah," Emma said. She shifted the cushion in her arms in order to lower the window. She stopped it from closing completely with a potted plant, brown and shrivelled, resting on the still. "Come on, Casanova," She said nudging him in the direction of the stairs with the soft bundle in her arms.

They climbed the remaining flight in silence, but unlike earlier it was comfortable. A light breeze toyed with the ends of Emma's hair, tangling them hopelessly. It was chilly, but not overly cold. The light was only just beginning to fade, so the dark metal of the fire escape still radiated a pleasant heat from its earlier exposure to the sun. At the apex of the metal contraption, Emma dropped the cushion onto the steel grating of the fire escape. Using her socked toes, she pressed it firmly against the brick exterior of the building.

"Sit," She commanded Killian with a nod towards the pillow as she unfolded the quilt. He raised his eyebrow in question, but complied. He rested his back against the red brick of the building and bent his legs at the knee so his boots rested just off of the cushion. He dared not incur Snow's wrath if he dirtied her furniture. Emma shot him an easy smile, her cheeks already rosy from the slight chill in the air before she threw the blanket over his shoulders. She settled between his legs, her back against his chest. There was a brief moment of awkward shuffling — knees to the ribs, elbows in faces, crumbling brick digging into spines, toes no longer covered by blankets — but soon enough they both found a comfortable position. His back resting against the cooling brick; hers against his chest, his legs on either side of her waist.

Emma's hands tangled with his underneath the blanket. When he heard the distinctive noise of styrofoam being opened, he smiled, knowing she'd reached her prize. She shifted against him, silently offering him one of Granny's deep fried morsels that she was so fond of. Killian normally preferred the version crafted from potatoes, but he'd gladly accept raw chimera were she offering it in the manner she was now. Playfully, he snapped at the offered onion ring, his teeth barely missing the tips of her fingers. His behaviour earned him a firm elbow to the ribs, but also a booming laugh from Emma, so he decided it was worth it. Her laughter slowly subsided and gave way to a contented sigh as she nestled more securely against his chest. _Gods, he loved this._ The easy, casual intimacy they had settled into since the return of his heart. He lived for these stolen moments when it felt like her walls were good and truly gone.

It was eerily quiet on their little perch above the world. The only noises that reached their ears were their own steady breathing, the crunch of Emma's onion rings, and an occasional rustle of the wind. Killian looked out onto the small parking lot below, where Emma's yellow vessel was moored, his confusion at their current situation growing by the moment.

"Far be it for me to complain," He said, tightening his arms around her waist, lest she think for a moment he wasn't relishing the feel of every inch of her pressed against him. "But it's a bit early for stargazing, yeah?" Though she didn't turn to face him, he swore he could feel her eyes roll powerfully at his comment, which caused a small smile to adorn his face.

"I come up here sometimes," Emma said after a minute. "Not as much as I used to, I used to come up here a lot. To be alone. To think…"

"Not as much to think on of late, Swan?"

"Something like that," She replied, abandoning the takeout container and twining her fingers with his. Her implication made Killian's smile grow until it threatened to crack his jaw in two. The idea that she'd spent anytime _at all_ contemplating him filled him with a boyish sense of delight that he couldn't hide had he wanted to.

"As long as I can remember, I've always done this. Something would inevitably go wrong, because it _always did_," Emma said, her voice taking on that low and distant quality it always did when she spoke of her upbringing. Hearing her tone, Killian's smile faded and he gently strummed his thumb along the back of her hand. She twisted towards him, a small, thankful smile on her face, before she continued. "I would just run. Go until I found a quiet place, a place that was just for me you know? This was always my place in Storybrooke. If you look there, in the gap between those buildings," Emma continued with an authoritative nod against his shoulder. "You can see the sunset over the water."

Killian directed his gaze towards where she prompted and sure enough, he saw the calm sea of Storybrooke's harbour, the sun just threatening to dip beneath the horizon.

"I'm not great with words, but when you told me about your brother, I just, I wanted to show you that I get it. Not that my situation is the same as yours, I've never lost a sibling, I can't even begin to imagine—"

"Swan—"

"The whole thing's stupid," Emma rambled, her words jumbling together. This had felt like such a good idea in her kitchen, but trying to explain it now suddenly made her feel like an unbelievable idiot. "Obviously the view is nothing compared to what you've seen from your ship. I shouldn't have—"

"I can assure you, love," Killian said squeezing her hand tightly, the sheer depth of his emotions rendering his accent thicker than it normally was. "Beyond a shadow of a doubt, this the most perfect sunset I've ever experienced in my unnaturally long life."

"Charmer," Emma admonished, with a gentle poke to his ribs.

"I mean it, Emma," Killian continued, undeterred in his quest to let her know just how much he cherished every moment she shared with him. Every moment she choose to let him in. "Thank-you for sharing this with me."

Always more comfortable with actions than words, Emma placed a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw, before she settled against him once again. Soft tendrils of pink and orange danced across the cloudless sky as the setting sun skimmed the sea. But try as he might, Killian found he couldn't keep his eyes trained on the horizon for long. Inevitably, they drifted back to Emma. Her checks rosy, her golden hair like spun silk in the fading light. Unlike Emma, he'd never entertained the notion that he was the product of True Love, and this only served to act as proof. For he knew if he had even a sliver of magical ability, he would have used it to selfishly prolong this moment forever. To keep this contented, open Emma wrapped securely in his arms, a vision against the setting sun, until the end of time.

"Do you know what would make this even better?" Emma asked him after a moment.

"No, love," He replied truthfully. "What?"

"Rum," She replied, her request coming out in a blissful hum.

"You know," He chuckled softly, as he released her hand to pull his flask from his jacket. A task made difficult as Emma seemed unwilling to move even slightly away from him. _Not that he minded._ "Not long ago, you were not nearly as appreciative of my stash of rum."

"I've come around on a couple of things since then," she replied. Though he couldn't see her face, but he could easily envision the delightful twinkle he knew to be in her eyes.

"Aye, too right you have," Killian said, his arm snaking back around her to offer her the flask which she eagerly plucked from his hand. He rested his hand on her waist and swallowed thickly to clear the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. "You know this is all I need, right? It's more than enough, this life with you and your lad… I wouldn't trade it for anything."

"You wouldn't change _anything_?" Emma asked, as she fought back a low shiver at his words. His voice low and warm against the shell of her ear.

"Perhaps, should Henry and your schedule permit it," He said, the sheer amount of surprise in Emma's voice making his heart constrict painfully in his chest and further steeling his resolve to make sure she knew just what she meant to him. _What they both meant to him. _"We could spend some afternoons at sea. I'd enjoy teaching you both how to sail."

"I know I'm just a landlubber, but I'm pretty sure it's tough to sail without a ship," Emma sassed before she handed him back the flask.

"There's no shortage of vessels in this land, Swan," Killian said, accepting the rum but not taking a drink. "I doubt procuring one would prove to be a challenge."

"Killian—"

"Aye, I meant _legally _of course," he said with a resigned sigh. "I have coin—"

"In a perfect world," Emma interrupted. "If the _Jolly Roger_ was magically down at the docks, you're telling me it would make no difference to you?"

Killian hesitated, finally understanding what she was getting at. His earlier concerns about Jorinde's plan and Emma's safety churned deep within his chest. His fingers toyed with the flask as he selected his next words with care. He'd rather not disrupt the enjoyable truce he and Emma had settled into, but he wouldn't, _couldn't_, pass up this opportunity to keep her from harm. Harm that would almost certainly befall them should they trust Jorinde. He'd been suspicious of Jorinde and her motives before, but after their exchange that morning he had no intention of letting her within a hundred miles of Emma. _Not if he could help it._

"I made my choice long ago," Killian said carefully. "And I would make the same one again a thousand times over to get to you—"

"Seriously?" Emma said, with more than a little annoyance. She twisted out of his arms and faced him, a defiant glint in her eye. "Would you stop it with that? If we weren't going to go to the Enchanted Forest, why did we tell everyone? Why did we sit through that town meeting?"

"Aye, there is that," he said, the memory driving him to take a long drag from his flask, before he offered it back to Emma.

"Where's this coming from?" She asked, waving it off. "What's the problem?"

"Can't you feel it, Emma, in your bones? There's a change in the wind," he sighed heavily and shook his head as he returned the flask to his jacket. "_Everything's_ about to change."

"Change isn't always a bad thing, Killian," Emma said, her features and tone both significantly softer. To underscore her point, she reached for him, his scruff rough beneath her palm, her thumb caressing the small scar on his cheek. Subtly reminding him that such closeness between them was still a relatively recent development.

"Aye, love, too right you are," He said sincerely. He smiled softly, before he pulled her back into his arms. Emma more than happily melted into his embrace. He had half a mind to tell her that these past few weeks of quiet shared with her had been the happiest of his life, but the air was only just thinning and he dared not press his luck. Emma had come so far from the Lost Girl he'd climbed a beanstalk with, but he knew better than to push her. Instead he tightened his arms around her waist and kissed her temple, his lips lingering.

He knew from the soft sigh Emma gave as she slouched down to rest her head against his shoulder that she felt she had won the exchange. _Perhaps she had_. The whole discussion was futile; he already knew he would follow her anywhere. _To the end of the world, or time. _Briefly he considered making one final attempt to convince her to stay, but he just couldn't bring himself to break the tranquility that had settled over them. Emma was about as stubborn as they came, and he doubted anything he could say would sway her opinion anyways. So instead they sat together quietly, tangled up in each other, the sun sinking lower and lower beneath the horizon.

"So, fill me in," Emma said, breaking the silence as she began tracing indistinct patterns above his knee with the tips of her fingers. "Who else is headed back to the Enchanted Forrest?"

"Might be simpler to list who's staying behind, love," Killian said, his brows furrowed. He rhymed off a long list of the townsfolk. True to his word, it did seem as if almost everyone was keen to journey back to their home realm.

"Belle?" Emma asked, noting her name was one of the few conspicuously absent from his list.

"No, actually, the Lady French is one of the few opting to remain here," Killian said quietly.

"Oh," Emma replied. The aimless movement of her fingertips on his jean clad leg ceased their journey and Killian felt her whole body tense against his.

"Out with it, Swan," He said with a gentle nudge of his nose against her cheek.

"Is she staying because of Gold?" Emma began cautiously, her gaze still fixed on the distant horizon. "Because he can't cross the town line back into Storybrooke?"

"She didn't say so in as many words, but aye, I imagine so," Killian replied. He and Belle had become quite close when they worked to free the Fairies and he couldn't help but to feel a pang of hurt for his friend. The Crocodile had hurt him, in more ways than one, but the wounds he had inflicted on Belle's heart had been another sort altogether.

"But, there's nothing stopping him from travelling to the Enchanted Forrest," Emma said, her voice flat as she filled in the details Killian had neglected to mention.

"Crossing realms is no easy feat, love," He reminded her.

"You've done it," Emma said quietly, her hand tightening its grip infinitesimally on his knee. "A couple times. And so did Neal, Greg and Tamara and Ingrid, Elsa, Anna, Kristoff. _Hell_, Mary Margret and I did it once by accident—"

"Hey," Killian said as shifted slightly and rotated Emma in his arms until he meet her gaze squarely. He gently tipped her face to meet his eyes, his thumb caressing the dimple of her chin. "Whatever happens, I won't let any harm come to you or your family. You have my word, Swan."

"You know you're a part of my family too right?" Emma asked softly. Her words echoed his own from that morning so closely that they quite literally knocked the air from his lungs. At a loss for words, his eyes darted between her own, his mouth slightly agape.

"Just how much of my conversation with Jorinde did you overhear this morning?" Killian asked when he finally found his voice again. He tried to infuse his tone with a touch of mirth. To keep the almost comical amount of hope he felt surging in his chest from creeping into his voice, as the prickling insecurity at the back of his mind screamed that Emma's words could have only been said in jest.

At his question, Emma faltered for a moment, her brows tightly furrowed. The sheer amount of confusion on her face left no doubt that her choice of words, _while coincidental_, were heartfelt. Cursing himself for not immediately seeing the sincerity in her eyes, he closed the space between them. He kissed her softly, throughly. His hand cupped her cheek reverently as he endeavoured to pour every ounce of emotion currently overwhelming him into his embrace.

"It's been a very long time since I've had a family," He confessed quietly, when they finally parted. He rested his forehead against hers and his thumb gently strummed along the apple of her cheek.

"Is that, is it okay? I mean—"

"Aye," He said quickly, capturing her lips in another soft kiss. "It's bloody brilliant, Swan."

In a feat of grace and agility he could scarcely comprehend, Emma was suddenly straddling him, her weight resting firmly on his thighs. She threaded her fingers through his hair as her lips found his again. The warmth of her body seeped through her sweater to his hand splayed between her shoulder blades. Unable to help himself, he wrapped his hooked arm tightly around her waist, drawing her closer to him. He could taste her smirk in her kiss as she captured the low groan she drew from him as she wantonly rocked against him.

"Mom?" A low voice called from Emma's bedroom window. The sound caused them to reluctantly pull apart. "The couch cushion's gone, are you up there?"

"Yeah, kid," Emma yelled back. She sighed heavily and hung her head, her blonde locks acting like a veil to obscure her features from Killian's eyes.

"Is the food from Granny's for us?" Henry called up again, his real purpose in seeking Emma out suddenly evident.

"Killian brought it," Emma said, rolling her eyes slightly at her son's insatiable appetite. "We'll be right down, Henry," She continued, though her weight remained firmly resting on Killian. She shot him an apologetic smile as she played with the lapels of his jacket.

"Grandma says don't forget to bring the cushion back in," Henry replied, his voice already fading, presumably as he headed back towards the kitchen. Or more accurately, to the food awaiting him in the kitchen.

"You know," Killian said, with a positively sinful smirk as he tucked her hair neatly behind her ear to better see her face. "If we opted to stay behind, there's a chance we may actually find ourselves with some uninterrupted time together."

"Mhmm," Emma replied, as she pretended to contemplate his comment. "But _when we _get your ship back," She said as she lowered her lips to his ear, her smooth cheek brushing against his stubbled one, her words hot against his skin. "You'll be able to show me every inch of _it._" She punctuated her comment with one last shameless drag of her hips against his own.

"Bloody hell, Emma," He groaned, dropping his hand to flex tightly on her hip. Her brazen teasing momentarily rendering him speechless enough that he forgot to correct the _Jolly's_ pronoun from an _it _to a _her. _

Satisfied, _that for once_, she was the one who rendered him speechless, Emma untangled herself from Killian's embrace. She pulled the quilt off of his shoulders with a flourish and headed back towards the stairs.

"Don't forget the couch cushion," She called over her shoulder, her hips swaying only slightly more than was strictly necessary as she meandered back down to her bedroom window.

_She would be the death of him, surely. _Though as he scrambled down the stairs, cushion tucked securely under his arm, he found himself thinking that there was something appealing about death by Swan.

* * *

**AN: I don't know what this chapter is. My muse wrote it without my permission and it's become the absolute bane of my existence! As well, I apologize that this is a short chapter, but I wanted to get it posted before I go on my vacation. I promise that: a) longer updates are coming b) longer updates are coming SOON c) that things are about to pick up, plot wise! Thanks again for reading and sticking with this story even though my writer's block has made updates few and far between! Your reviews and messages are unbelievably kind :)**


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